


i've made an everlasting vow to find my way to you

by Anonymous



Series: if i never knew you [2]
Category: Disney - All Media Types, Pocahontas (Disney 1995)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assault, Established Relationship, Gendered Language, Historical Inaccuracy, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Parenthood, Post Mpreg, Protectiveness, Threats of Violence, and now they're in love, here's where it gets real, i tried to be as accurate as possible but, suggestive talk, taken vibes, they got a son now, thomas never shoots kocoum, thomas won't let anyone lay a hand on his baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Thomas has given birth and he couldn't be happier with Kocoum, his son, and the rest of the tribe. He's finally found happiness, and nothing can take it away.It's almost cruel how fast that hope can be dashed.
Relationships: Kocoum/Thomas (Disney: Pocahontas), Pocahontas/John Smith (Disney)
Series: if i never knew you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120508
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: Anonymous, Anonymous Fics





	1. the calm

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys i'm back!! thank you to everyone who left a comment on the last work in this series, it really does mean a lot to me. i re-read them every single day to get motivation. you guys inspired me to write another installment in this series, and here it is! i hope you guys enjoy it
> 
> in case you haven't read the first part of this series, you should probably read that first since this will most likely not make a ton of sense if you haven't. 
> 
> obligatory warning for mpreg: i get it isn't a very popular trope, but as i've mentioned before, this is purely self indulgence. 
> 
> strap in y'all it's getting real

There wasn’t a better sound in the universe, Thomas decided, than the sound of a child’s laugh. Specifically, his child. His darling, his dear, his entire world...his son, Aranck. 

Perhaps he was being cheesy. In fact, Thomas  _ knew  _ he was. He was acting very bit the new mother he was; taking his son on walks around their village pointing out everything he saw both in Powhatan and in English, waving his little hand when Kocoum returned to their hut, and cooing over every last burble. And honestly, could one blame him? He had suffered through nine moons to bring Aranck safely into this world, the least he could do was dote on him and shower him with all the affection he never got from his own parents. 

On the contrary, Kocoum’s brand of love was much more quiet, but powerful all the same. Every day without fail, he gave his son a pat on the head before leaving for his daily hunting duties, told him the stories of their tribe in a soft, but steady voice every night before they settled down into their furs, and let him crawl all over his strong chest. That sight never failed to make Thomas laugh, seeing his child use his lover like his own personal toy. 

Despite only being a mere nine moons old, Aranck was already a rambunctious child. Every chance he got, he’d crawl around their hut, looking for new things to see, smell, or shove in his mouth. There was no limit to what he wanted to explore, and Thomas wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, exploring could lead to danger(he had almost fainted with fright when Aranck grabbed one of Kocoum’s arrowheads), but on the other...he wanted to nurse his son’s interests. To his great relief, Aranck was strong, and he hadn’t fallen ill to so many childhood illnesses that stole many a babe away from their mother. 

“He will be a fine warrior one day,” Kocoum had said one night as they lazily watched their son shriek with delight at the sight of a stray bowstring, “He’ll serve our tribe well.” 

Thomas hummed in agreement, burrowing his nose deeper into his lover’s shoulder, “He will.” He paused then, a sudden thought coming into his mind. “And...if he wants to be a wife or do women’s work?” 

Kocoum didn’t bat an eye. He only grunted softly, pausing the sharpening he was doing on a spear, “Then he shall. Whatever he desires, he shall have.” 

Thomas smiled at that, reaching out a single hand for his son to take. Aranck giggled in glee, scooting himself over to his mother and gripping his hand tight. Two tiny hands wrapped around three of Thomas’s fingers and he let out a soft coo, chuckling as his son stuffed the fingers into his mouth, gnawing on them with little nubs of teeth. His feathery red hair, still wisps on his head, gleamed in the firelight. 

Yes, Thomas mused, it would be nice if Aranck followed in his footsteps and did women’s work. He’d enjoy his child’s company in the weaving circles and while they went foraging for roots and fruits, but true to his own words, Aranck was truly his father’s son. There was little doubt that in a few short years, he’d become like so many of the young boys of the tribe; trailing after their fathers and begging to be allowed to accompany them on a hunt. It made sense, Kocoum’s father and grandfather and great-grandfather had all been premier hunters of the tribe, so Aranck would have no shortage of knowledge to learn and grow from. 

Kocoum’s father had said as much when he and his wife came to visit Aranck for the first time just a few suns after he had been born. Chogan was a large man, still in top physical condition even after he had retired from being a warrior, but despite his rather menacing appearance(it was no secret where Kocoum had gotten his glare from), he was quick to laughter. Kocoum’s mother, Pules, was tall and slim, but with a softer face that made her look younger than her years. Her hands were callused and rough from years of weaving and skinning, but she never failed to pull Thomas into a hug every time she saw him. At first, Thomas had been worried at what they would think of him--after all, he had been under the impression that even if the tribe had no problem with two men together, they would still be disappointed at his inability to give them grandchildren. 

Well, it wasn’t as if that was an issue anymore. Once he and Kocoum had informed them of his pregnancy, they could hardly contain their excitement. And despite Alsoomse’s orders that no visitors were to be received for at least three suns after the birth to allow Thomas to rest, it was a challenge keeping them away. 

“Oh, he looks just like Kocoum!” Pules had said tearfully, rocking Aranck in her arms under the watchful eye of his parents, “But his hair...oh, it’s such a gift.” She had looked at Thomas with such fierce admiration that he had blushed almost as red as said hair. 

“My boy, I can already tell--” Chogan had boomed, slapping his son on the back, “He’ll be a great warrior one day. Perhaps he will even rival me!” 

Kocoum had to school his features, but Thomas could tell the thought of Aranck following in the family footsteps was a point of pride. “He is only a babe, Father. We will see.” 

The next visitors were somewhat less overbearing. Pocahontas and John had come bearing gifts, a small rattle, a basket of food, and a clumsily-made cloth doll. 

“Made it myself,” John had said proudly, setting the doll on Thomas’s lap and in front of Aranck, who stared at it with utter confusion, “Rather good, isn’t it?” 

Thomas shared a look with Pocahontas, who smiled exasperatingly. “Mm, I think John’s skills lie outside the realm of sewing.” 

John scoffed. “Nonsense. If I can shoot a musket at a target two-hundred feet away and hit it dead center, I can sew a doll.” 

Thomas took the opportunity to steal a look at Kocoum, who was kneeling beside him protectively, and it amused him to see a hint of pride on his face. Despite the fact that he was on neutral(if slightly chilly) terms with John, he still seemed to want to show off his little family to him. It was one of those ‘warrior things’, as Nakoma called them. 

“Well, I think Aranck is absolutely precious,” Pocahontas said breezily, changing the subject before John could continue to posture, “May I hold him?” 

Thomas nodded slightly, smiling up at his friend as she gently took him from his lap and adjusted him in her arms. Pocahontas laughed quietly, tickling Aranck’s nose with her finger and beaming as the boy babbled happily. “He really does look like you, Kocoum--” she continued, her eyes flicking to her cousin, “But much less  _ serious. _ ”

Kocoum looked a little miffed at that, but chose to stay silent as Pocahontas continued to rock his child back and forth. 

“Well, my friend--” John remarked, “I never thought you’d be married with a son, but I suppose anything’s possible, right? Congratulations, kid.” He went to ruffle Thomas’s hair, but thought better of it after receiving a withering look from Kocoum. “Ah…” he chuckled awkwardly, retracting his hand, “Sorry, sorry. Ah, perhaps that’ll be us soon, isn’t that right, Pocahontas?” He nudged his wife, grinning suggestively, but she just rolled her eyes. 

“Not any time soon, John,” she said good-naturedly, handing Aranck back to Thomas, “I’ll already have my hands full with spoiling Aranck.” 

Thomas smiled delicately, taking his son into his lap and rocking him back and forth slightly. “You're always welcome here.” 

Aranck cooed as if in agreement, and the entire hut dissolved into laughter. Even Kocoum had a hint of a smile across his face. 

True to Thomas’s word, Pocahontas and John visited often. Aranck came to look forward to their visits, clapping his hands and smiling his gummy smile. The role of godfather-uncle fit John like a glove, and he was always willing to play with Aranck whenever the boy so much as looked at him. Pocahontas was more...educational. Whenever she could, she’d always show Aranck different plants or stones, explaining their significance or what they were used for. 

“Children are much smarter than we think,” she had replied the one time Thomas had asked her, “If he is to be knowledgeable, we must start teaching him now.” 

The concept had taken Thomas aback, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Back when he was in England, he had never attended school. His family was too poor and could not afford to spend anything extra on an education, but he had never even considered what his son’s schooling might be like. As he had observed in his close to three years with the tribe, there was no official education system like there was in England. Instead, children learned by example, trailing their parents or any other adults that would allow them to follow them around and watching with rapt attention as the adult went about their day. Often, he had seen a young boy clumsily handling a spear, only to be gently corrected by an older man, or a girl frustrated over her uneven weaving, only to have a woman undo it and softly explain how to get it right. The village had no use for arithmetic or Latin or any of the other subjects taught in English schools. They taught as they lived. 

But even if Aranck was to be a hunter, the knowledge of the finer aspects of tribal life would do him a great service. Pocahontas really was always ahead of things. 

But even if Pocahontas had already set her heart on having Aranck become the most accomplished child in the tribe, Thomas was no slouch either. The day that his prescribed rest period was up, he was out and about with Aranck strapped to his back as he went about his daily duties. The women in his circle fawned over the child, ticking his nose and petting his soft red hair until he sneezed, which only made them fawn even more. 

“Better not bring him around too often,” Nuna had teased, tickling the babe under his chin, “The village shall starve if you do.” 

Yes, it was a joy to have their son, and Thomas couldn’t have been happier. Carrying a child in his body for nine moons had been taxing and painful on both his body and his mind, but he hadn’t regretted it a single time. Even when Aranck woke them in the dead of night, screaming to be fed or held, he was happy. 

If he was being honest, he never thought he’d have a chance at happiness like this. He had always thought that eventually land a job in a wheelwright’s shop, barely scrounging enough money to live off of while supporting a wife he could never love. In England, he’d be just another man and he’d die as just another man. But here, with the tribe, he was important. He was  _ loved.  _ He had a  _ family.  _ And there was nothing he’d trade it for, nothing that could be worth the idyllic happiness he’d managed to create around himself. 

But, as with all things in Thomas’s life, it couldn’t last forever.

Not unbroken, at least. 


	2. the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A world falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! sorry for the long wait, i've been very busy with many things in my life, but i finally found the time to write! hope you guys like this chapter, it's where shit gets real
> 
> if you enjoy it, comments make my day and inspire me to write faster. even if it's short or you're just predicting what happens next!
> 
> chapter cw for: background violence, minor physical assault, threats of violence

“Get up, Thomas...you cannot sleep on my shoulder forever.” 

Thomas mumbled sleepily, nuzzling closer into his lover’s body and ignoring the subtle movements meant to shift him off. He was just so full from dinner, and the fire was so warm….

Ah, he could practically  _ feel  _ Kocoum’s scowl. 

“Hm,” Kocoum said then, tapping Thomas’s arm gently, “What is Aranck doing?” 

With a jolt, Thomas shot up, his hair sticking every which way as he wildly searched the hut for his child and the possible danger he was in. When his eyes finally fell on his son, who was sitting in a corner playing with a small ball, he breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to Kocoum and frowned, shoving him in the shoulder. 

“Don’t jest like that, Kocoum!” he growled, but there was no real malice to it, “My heart cannot take it.” 

Kocoum didn’t look up from tending the dying hearth. “It got you off my shoulder, did it not?” 

Thomas harrumpted, choosing instead to walk over to his child and sit down next to him. He smiled softly, watching as the babe pushed the ball and gurgled happily. He gently took the ball, holding in front of Aranck’s face and waving it back and forth. 

“What’s this?” he asked happily, chuckling as he watched his son reach for the ball, “Do you want it?” 

Aranck giggled, clapping his hands together and bouncing up and down where he sat. “Uwah!” he babbled, making grabbing motions with his hands. 

Thomas smiled wider, giving the ball a very gentle toss and causing it to land directly in his son’s lap. The boy shrieked with happiness, as if Thomas had just done something truly spectacular, and slapped the ball with his hands. 

“Are you trying to teach him how to play stickball?” Kocoum’s voice came from behind him, a hint of amusement to his tone. 

Thomas sniffed. “Of course not. You’re not allowed to touch the ball with your hands.” 

There was a sudden warmth behind him and Thomas couldn’t help but lean back as Kocoum wrapped his arms around his torso. The hot breath hitting his neck caused shivers to run down Thomas’s spine and he moaned weakly. “Mmm…” he mumbled, trembling as his husband pressed butterfly kisses to his shoulder, “Not now...our child is here…” 

Kocoum just grunted. “He will be asleep soon...and then I can have you.” 

Thomas grinned, tilting his head back to kiss Kocoum’s temple. “Are you trying to put another child inside of me?” 

Kocoum bit down on Thomas’s shoulder, eliciting a strangled yelp from his lover’s throat. “And would it be so wrong if I was?” 

Well, Thomas should’ve expected that. 

“Why don’t I put Aranck to bed--” he whispered, “And then you may have me. Any way you desire.”

Thomas could feel Kocoum’s eyes remain on his body, even as he felt the hands around his torso withdraw. He didn’t dare turn around, lest he throw himself at his husband right then and there. 

Aranck, bless his heart, didn’t seem to notice. He only gurgled, waving his tiny hands in the air as Thomas gently set him on his own little pile of furs. It was right next to the larger pile where Thomas and Kocoum slept during the night, so either of them could easily react if something was wrong. He watched for just a moment as his child yawned, wiggling slightly in his bedding before shutting his eyes peacefully. 

Thomas had hardly turned away from Aranck, fully prepared to give himself over to a night of pleasure with his lover, when there was a sudden sound outside. It sounded like the cry of an advancing warrior...but that was impossible. It was practically night already, and none of their warriors had gone anywhere recently. 

Furrowing his brow, Thomas turned to Kocoum, who was staring very intensely at the opening of their hut. His hands were stock still, and his back muscles were tense, as if he was preparing for battle. 

“Kocoum--” Thomas began nervously, “What’s--” 

Suddenly, the cry of one warrior became the cry of many, the sounds easily carrying through the fur entrance to their hut and surrounding Thomas like a thick smoke. Heavy footfalls thumped just outside, and Kocoum shot up. His features were hard and his fists were clenched. 

What in Heaven was happening? 

“What’s happening, Kocoum?” Thomas asked once more, inching closer to the entrance of their hut, “Is something--”

“Stay there!” Kocoum barked, causing Thomas to fall back with a start. Kocoum had never spoken to him like that before, so whatever was happening outside...it couldn’t be good. 

He watched anxiously as Kocoum slung his bow and quiver of arrows over his shoulder, grabbing his spear that had been resting on the opposite wall. The warrior’s actions were full of dark energy, rippling beneath the surface of his skin and showing on his face. It was nothing like the Kocoum of mere minutes ago, the one that had wrapped his arms around him and lavished attention to him. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Kocoum finally turned back to him. His face was stormy and conflicted as he walked over, kneeling down in front of his lover and taking his chin in one hand. “Thomas, you must promise me something.” 

Thomas wanted to ask what the  _ hell  _ was going on, but he only nodded. 

Kocoum’s mouth was drawn into a thin line. “Do not leave this hut, whatever you do. Stay inside and stay hidden.”

“But, Kocoum--”

“ _ Promise me!” _

Thomas swallowed, lip trembling ever so slightly. “I promise.”

Kocoum sighed, releasing his lover’s chin. He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he did not. Instead, he ran to the opening of their hut and disappeared outside. 

By then, Thomas had a hazy idea of what was going on, but he couldn’t know for sure. He didn’t want to disobey Kocoum, but...he needed to know. He couldn’t bear the thought of Kocoum being in any sort of danger. 

Slowly, he scooted forward to the opening of the hut, making sure to keep a watchful eye on his baby as he went. Carefully, he drew back the hanging fur just the slightest bit, just so he could peek outside and see what was happening. 

It was horrible. 

Everywhere he looked, the tribe’s warriors were locked in battle. But not with each other, no...from Thomas’s view behind the fur, the warriors of the tribe seemed to be fighting an entirely different tribe. It wasn’t hard to pick them out; they were unfamiliar to the eye and decorated in war paint. The air was heavy with the scent of blood and thick with the sound of screaming and battle cries. Anywhere he looked, arrows were flying and men were wrestling each other on the ground, baring their teeth like animals. The sunset cast a grotesque red glow over the entire scene, looking very much like a field in hell itself. But, despite how he tried, Thomas couldn’t find Kocoum...and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

Remembering his lover’s words, Thomas darted back from the entrance, eyes wide and chest heaving. He could feel his heart getting quicker by the minute, and his hands were growing clammy. There was no denying it...this was an ambush. He had heard of things like this happening, but it was always told to him in a way that suggested it would never happen here in the village. But now…

A small coo from the back of the hut shook him from the clutches of his own mind, and he whipped around faster than he thought possible. 

_ Aranck.  _

The babe looked confused, his lower lip wobbling as if he was about to start wailing. His poor child...he didn’t have any idea what was going on, but it was surely distressing him. 

Thomas raced over, taking his child in his arms and giving him a kiss, rocking him back and forth in order to calm him. “Shh, shh…” he soothed, eyes darting frantically between Aranck and the door, “Calm yourself, little one...please…” 

If any of the ambushing warriors heard Aranck’s cries, there was no telling what might happen to them. He didn’t know a bloody thing about wars between different tribes, but surely if this other tribe decided to ambush them, their goal was to hurt, maim, and steal. Whether or not that included people, he didn’t know. 

By now, the hearth had died down to mere embers, so the only light source was the weak streams of sun coming in from the entrance. This was a good thing, Thomas decided. The less light coming from their hut, the less likely any ambushers would seek them out to take as hostages or trophies. Trying not to jostle Aranck too much, he quickly moved to a corner of the hut, parallel to and out of direct view from the entrance. With any luck, any person doing a sweep of their hut wouldn’t notice him and his baby. 

There were a couple old blankets in this corner, ones that were filled with holes and moth-eaten, but Thomas took the opportunity to securely wrap Aranck in them, willfully ignoring the protesting whimpers he received. Call it maternal instinct, but he needed to make sure that his child was hidden as best as he could be. 

Huddling in the corner wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, but it was all Thomas could do. He had to listen to Kocoum...and he wouldn’t dare expose Aranck to any situation that could put him in unnecessary danger. 

Time dragged by, and the fighting outside did not cease. In fact, it seemed to get even worse as more and more of their tribe’s warriors joined in trying to fend off the attack. Thomas couldn’t help but cringe every time he heard the strangled yell of a warrior being struck with an arrow or the scream of a woman whose home was being pillaged. How long would this go on? How many would be hurt? What would become of their village?

As if he could sense his mother’s emotions, Aranck began to whine softly, his face screwing up into a twisted expression of sadness and concern. He wriggled in his blanket, his wispy red hair whipping back and forth as he tried to free his hands. 

“No, no, don’t worry, Aranck…” Thomas tried to comfort his child, wiping away the stray tear that rolled down his cheek, “I promise, you’ll be alright, everything will be--”

“What a lovely home I’ve just stumbled on.” 

Without warning, a deep tenor voice rang out across the room, a malicious tint coloring every word. Thomas’s breath caught in his throat, too terrified to even let out a gasp or squeak. Instinctively, he shielded his child with his arms, caging him in between his bent knees and forearms. Without making a single sound, he slowly lifted his head, only to come face to face with an unfamiliar man. 

He was clearly a warrior, but not one from their tribe. The entire length of his face and torso were painted up, signifying his status and skill. He was tall, perhaps taller than Kocoum or Chogan, but his face lacked warmth. There were several daggers strapped to his waist, and a bow was slung casually over his shoulder. 

The man smirked upon noticing Thomas’s fearful gaze, taking one step closer and reveling in the way the other man shrank back. “So,” he began, as if they were two friends having a conversation over dinner, “It seems the rumors are true. The Powhatans have taken in a pale face. How very...charitable of them.” 

Thomas didn’t say anything. How could he? Any courage he might’ve had was replaced with deep-seated instinctual  _ fear _ , not just for himself, but for the safety of his child. Aranck had gone still and quiet, but there was no telling when he might act up again. Despite the warmth of the night and the leftover heat from the fire, Thomas’s body was shaking like a leaf, which didn’t go unnoticed by the outsider warrior. 

“I have heard the pale faces are warriors, with weapons that shoot fire and thunder. But I do not see any.” The man made a show of looking around the hut, “It seems you are a coward, no? Hiding away while those who have shown you kindness die for you. I have heard pale face warriors are quite an opponent, but I doubt you could last a moment in battle.” Something seemed to dawn on the warrior and he took another step closer, kneeling down and giving Thomas a calculating look, “Unless...you are not a warrior?” 

The lack of an answer only seemed to embolden the man even more. “I see now,” he said gleefully, as if he had just figured out something amazing, “You’re a wife, aren’t you? A warrior has taken you in, given you food and shelter...in exchange for keeping house and spreading your legs, hm?” He laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I suppose your husband is out there fighting now. I wonder which one he is...it would be a joy to take you from him.” 

Thomas grit his teeth, finding his voice somewhere in his throat as he stared down the other man. “It will not work. I will fight you with everything I have...and I know my husband will too.” His voice was shaky and yet unyielding, causing the warrior to quirk an eyebrow. 

“Is that so?” A hand suddenly shot out, pinning Thomas’s neck against the wall and squeezing his windpipe. Thomas’s eyes went wide, using the one hand that wasn’t gripping Aranck to claw at the warrior’s wrist and fingers. Tears filled his eyes and he gasped for air...Oh, almighty God, he was going to die here…

“Uwah…” 

A whimper sounded from the bundle of blankets in Thomas’s lap, and his heart stopped. No...please, no…

Thankfully, the warrior seemed confused by the sound and loosened the grip on Thomas’s throat, allowing him to take large gulps of air. His vision, which had gone hazy from the loss of air and from the tears, cleared up enough to see the man ripping away the edges of the blankets, exposing the tearful face of Aranck. The babe looked to be only mere seconds from a fit of crying, with large watery eyes and fists clenched. 

At the sight of his frightened child and this strange warrior’s hands on him, Thomas couldn’t hold back anymore. Without even thinking, he knocked the man’s hands away and stood up, holding his son close to his chest and glaring fiercely down at the warrior. “Don’t  _ touch  _ him…” he hissed, his eyes glittering with malice, “Don’t you  _ dare  _ touch him.” 

The man’s slight surprise lasted for only a moment more before he was standing up as well, the cruel smirk back on his face. “So you do have backbone after all.” He drew one of his daggers, his grin widening. “And while I admire it, I do not want it standing in my way. Thus, I offer you a choice. My chief has bid us to come back with...guests, I should say. The way I see things, it would be of great interest to me to take a pale face... _ guest _ . Or, perhaps better, his child.”

Thomas felt faint. No, they couldn’t. They  _ wouldn’t.  _ He wouldn’t let them take his son, he’d  _ die  _ before he allowed that to happen. He had to protect Aranck, no matter how much his fear of the situation caused his throat to close up and his eyes to swim with tears. 

“I…” Thomas stuttered, trying not to look at the way Aranck clung to him like a lifeline, “You mustn’t...please…” 

The warrior’s expression didn’t change. “There is a third choice, should you wish to take it.” He twirled his dagger in his fingers, its sharp edge gleaming in the sliver of sunset shining through the fur hanging, “I do not think you will like it, though. No mother wants their child’s blood spilt in front of them.” 

The words were left to hang in the air like a toxic smoke, and Thomas felt his heart seize horribly. God...he was going to be sick. The mental image of this strange,  _ terrible  _ man hurting his only child...it was too much to bear. There was an unbearable ringing in his ears, and his vision was slowly blurring at the edges, causing an intense feeling of nausea to overcome his senses. Why...why was this happening…? He had been so happy…

But despite his fear, the choice was already made in his mind. It had been made since the moment the man’s words left his lips. Thomas would do  _ anything  _ to spare Aranck, and he had promised him at his birth that he would always protect him, no matter what happened. He had never been more fearful in his life, but the decision was clear. 

“Take me…” he whispered, barely audible enough to be heard, “Just, please...don’t hurt him. Please…” 

The man’s face lit up, and the ensuing smile was nothing short of wicked. “A wise choice.” He opened his mouth to say something else but was abruptly cut off when the furs of their hut were flung open, allowing the sun’s dying rays to stream into the hut with full force. Thomas squinted, trying to make out the silhouette standing in the doorway...Kocoum? Had Kocoum come back for them? Was this nightmare over?

The blossom of hope that had just begun to bloom in Thomas’s chest quickly became dashed when the silhouette moved forward, revealing himself to be another unfamiliar man. This one was shorter, but well-built and mean-looking. He carried no weapons, but his chest was heaving like he had just come from battle. 

The first man turned, barking something in a language Thomas couldn’t hope to understand. The second man answered back irritably, gesturing vaguely to Thomas and Aranck several times. 

They went back and forth like that for several minutes, with both men getting progressively angrier until they were near shouting in their unknown tongue. Thomas’s eyes flashed to the door, still waving in the slight breeze, wondering if he could make it if he ran. It was such a short distance, and the men were distracted…

“Do not do what I think you are going to do, pale face.”

Thomas’s eyes snapped back to the first man, who looked rather annoyed. “I know that look. I have seen it in cornered rabbits many times. But you will not make it, not without a knife in your gut.” 

He looked back at his companion, who only nodded stiffly. Sighing, he turned back. “It seems my compatriot here believes both you and your child carry significant value as...guests. So, it seems we will be taking both of you. I apologize for misleading you, it really was not my intention. I hope you will understand.” 

Thomas barely had time to process before the second man was surging forward, ripping Aranck from his arms with such swiftness that he didn’t even realize what had happened until his child’s screams filled the air. He watched in utter horror as the second man began to carry his child away, out towards the door and into the carnage scene their village had become. 

A wail tore itself out of Thomas’s throat, pure fury and distress filling his body. He didn’t waste any more time before launching himself after the man, tears streaking down his cheeks as he clawed at the air. “ _ NO!”  _

The first man easily caught him, however, holding him firm as he writhed and thrashed and scratched with every ounce of strength he had. They were taking away his child...they were taking him...they were going to  _ hurt him…. _

“Get off of me...let me  _ go,  _ you  _ bastard!”  _ Thomas shrieked, half crying and half hyperventilating as Aranck’s cries increased in volume, “Don’t  _ touch him!  _ Let me  _ go!”  _

“A mother’s love is beautiful, isn’t it?” the man said conversationally, his grip tightening on Thomas’s convulsing body, “The purest form of love that exists in our world.” 

Thomas ignored him, his screams increasing in pitch as he watched the second man and Aranck disappear from the hut. “Where are you taking him?! Let me  _ go!  _ Don’t hurt him, don’t hurt him _ ,  _ take me instead, please, please…!” He beat the warrior’s chest with his fists, ugly sobs forcing their way from his mouth as he fought. Aranck was  _ gone... _ his child had been  _ taken... _ and who knows what they were going to do with him? He couldn’t think, he couldn’t  _ breathe,  _ all he could do was fight until he couldn’t anymore. The sounds coming from his mouth were haunting and inhuman, desperate weeping and mournful howls of pain, but it didn’t seem to faze the man at all. He only seemed mildly irritated, as if Thomas’s world crashing down around him constituted nothing more than a minor inconvenience. 

Finally, the warrior seemed to be at his limit and he bared his teeth. “Enough.” 

With one strongarmed motion, he backhanded Thomas across the face, sending him crashing to the floor in a daze. His vision swam in front of him, tears still leaking from his eyes as the warrior loomed over him. A soft groan left his mouth, his lips moving in phantom pleas. 

“You are stronger than I expected,” the warrior drawled, producing a spool of rope from God-knows-where, “But not strong enough.” With hardly three movements, he had bound Thomas’s wrists behind him in a simple, yet effective knot. A flicker of panic managed to force its way through the fog in Thomas’s brain, and he began to lift his head, only to have it forced down by the warrior. 

“Keep still.” 

With another flourish, the man tied a thick piece of cloth around Thomas’s eyes, blocking his vision. 

“We can’t have you knowing where you are, can we?” he murmured, his rough hands giving one more tug at the bindings to ensure their security. After seemingly deeming them satisfactory, Thomas felt himself being hoisted up and thrown unceremoniously over the man’s broad shoulder. He grunted softly, to which the warrior just chuckled. 

“It’s about to be a lot more uncomfortable than that.” 

And without any further fanfare, he was carried out of the tent and into the dusk air. 

Thomas could feel his consciousness fading away as he was moved across the field. He could vaguely tell the sounds of the battle were getting quieter, but he wasn’t sure where the man was taking him. 

His thoughts drifted to Kocoum...was he safe? Hurt? How would he react when he found out he and Aranck were gone. 

More tears slipped from underneath the blindfold, dripping onto the ground below. 

_ Kocoum,  _ Thomas thought,  _ Please be alright. Please, to whoever is listening...keep him safe. _

However, it seemed Thomas’s strange thoughts had manifested themselves into reality, for in the distance, he could hear someone shouting.

It was only after the voice had gotten marginally closer that he realized it was Kocoum. The relief made his body go limp, sagging against the man’s hold and praising whichever deity had kept his lover unharmed. 

Kocoum was  _ alright.  _ He was  _ safe.  _ Even amongst all this bloodshed, his husband had escaped with his life. 

And as Thomas finally succumbed to the dark, he felt himself being comforted by the very last sound he heard: 

“ _ THOMAS!”  _

**Author's Note:**

> oooooh cliffhanger
> 
> i hope the tags don't give too much away! leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter or wanna predict what's going to happen, or anything you'd like to see in this work or in future works. they give me life and motivation wink wink.


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